


Sleeping Beauty: A Merlin Fanfiction

by raven_of_hydecastle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: ...please..., Arthur & Knights, Arthur hates leprechauns, Gen, Gwaine Being Gwaine, Gwaine is a bartender (of course), Gwen in highschool, Merlin has too much fun, Merlin is sleeping beauty, Minor Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Once again I put off life for my fandom, Protective Knights, Stop pitying me, T-T, captured Merlin!, knights reborn, wild goosechase
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 10:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17959172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_of_hydecastle/pseuds/raven_of_hydecastle
Summary: Gwaine knew that he’d been reborn, probably because Arthur was coming back, and he already lived close by Lake Avalon, so all he had to do was wait for him to turn up.Arthur did two years later.Soaking wet, and raving about leprechauns.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheStoryVerse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheStoryVerse/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I was thinking, what if Arthur woke up and Merlin wasn't there?

 

Gwaine regained his memories two years ago. It had started just like any other day, except he’d woken up whistling an old drinking song, and his memories came crashing down. Many people would have reevaluated their lives, corrected things that did not match with their old morals, and readjusted to the world. But, well, Gwaine wasn’t most people. Aside from finally understanding why he’d named his bar “The Rising Sun” and why he lived in the country by an old lake instead of the high rises of London, life continued as normal. 

He knew that he’d been reborn, probably because Arthur was coming back, and he already lived close by Lake Avalon, so all he had to do was wait for him to turn up.

Arthur showed up two years later. 

Soaking wet, and raving about leprechauns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my beta-reader TheStoryVerse for helping me out! 
> 
> After Ghosts in the Water I needed something to cheer me up, and I was inspired by fairy tale crack fics to write something...ludicrous. Somehow it's still longer than I expected, but I had fun, and I loved writing the Knight scenes and the leprechaun was a nice surprise. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur got up slowly, not able to trust his strength yet. Avalon’s waters lapped against his armor as he sat in the shallows, trying to get his bearings. 

It was a cloudy day and would probably rain later. The obelisk on Avalon’s main island was broken and weathered from the passing of time, and a stone road snaked away from the lake, smooth and alien. 

How long had he been away? Arthur made his way to dry land, wincing as a blustery wind ripped through his chainmail. The banks were empty; something was missing.

No, some _ one _ .

“Merlin?” Arthur called, looking for the familiar manservant. “Merlin, come out!”

He’d been told that the warlock had been waiting for his resurrection the entire time. (Told by who was hard to answer; his time in Avalon was getting increasingly fuzzy.) Arthur had assumed that someone with magic as strong as Merlin’s would have sensed the veil opening to let him through, so where was he?

Not here, at any rate, and it was too cold to lollygag on the shore, waiting for his old friend to show up. For all he knew, Merlin could be halfway across the world or stranded on a distant island; shelter first--idiot magical manservant later.

Arthur made for the road, but a voice stopped him.

“Oi! Oi!”

A young boy barreled down the slope, waving a scroll in one hand. He had ginger hair and a faceful of freckles as red as a Camelot cloak. 

“Aye, you Arthur Pendragon?” the boy gasped, stumbling to a halt in front of him.

“How do you know my name, boy?” Arthur asked guardedly. Then he saw the wispy goatee the ‘boy’ was sporting, the bright green clothes, and ridiculous gold belt buckles. “Wait, you’re a leprechaun!”

He whipped his sword out, and the creature backed away. 

“Yikes! Put that away sonny, I’m just here to deliver a message, that’s all!” He said, holding out the scroll. “My master sent me here to give you this.”

Arthur cautiously took the scroll and flicked it open with one hand. An intricate, old map with phrases scrawled all over it was penned into faded parchment. 

“What is this?” Arthur asked incredulously. 

“A quest. You must follow the directions and solve the riddles.” The leprechaun said. “And if you don’t, you can be assured you won’t see your manservant ever again.”

Arthur locked his eyes on the little man, and slowly curled the scroll back up.

“What did you say?” he growled. 

“You heard me,” the messenger replied cheekily, “you have one month to complete the quest, or you’ll regret ever being reborn. Farewell, Arthur Pendragon, and good luck!”

The man turned to run. 

“Wait, get back here!” Arthur yelled, reaching for the leprechaun, but as soon as he touched the man’s green clothes he vanished, leaving Arthur alone on the shores again, clutching the faded map.

_ “If I were you _ ,” the leprechaun’s voice said smugly, merely an echo left by the creature,  _ “I would start with the tavern down the road. The first clue is there.” _

Arthur ground his teeth together; to think his first task on getting back from Avalon would be to save his manservant from peril, well...it wasn’t that surprising, but it should have been. But if anyone hurt Merlin, he would make them pay. They’d rue the day they set the King of Camelot against them. 

He unfurled the map again, marking the tavern on the map; it was only a mile, tops. Next to the picture was a phrase, “ _ let the rising sun be your guide,”  _ which was ridiculous because it was in the opposite direction as sunrise. 

Arthur put Excalibur back in its sheath and stormed away from Avalon, muttering angry threats to whoever spoiled his return from the dead. Whoever the culprit was, he was going to kill them. 


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur got some strange looks from the locals, who were dressed in nearly identical shirts and breeches (all the breaches were blue and faded from working. The shirts had pictures painted on them with weird words Arthur had never seen). The King of Camelot ignored them and marched into the tavern, which had the ironic name “The Rising Sun” painted on its door. 

Or, maybe not so ironic, seeing who was serving drinks to the patrons. 

“Gwaine?” Arthur exclaimed, “what the hell are you doing?”

The one-time knight dropped his drink tray and gaped at Arthur. A half dozen mugs rolled across the floor, sloshing beer everywhere. A couple of patrons yelled.

“Arthur--Arthur Pendragon!” He yelled, flinging the tray in his opposite hand away and rushing to give his friend a one-armed hug. “You’re back, I can’t believe it!”

“What are you doing  _ Here _ ?” Arthur demanded, “why are you a tavern master?”

“Oh, well--” Gwaine began when someone angrily called for their drink. Gwaine’s face scrunched into a scowl and he called. “We’re closed now; I’m not serving drinks anymore you pig-faced buffoon!”

What immediately followed was a bar fight similar to how Arthur and Gwaine first met; the only difference was that there were broken TV’s littering the floor and no Merlin to clean them up. When the floor was finally clear, and the last man stumbled outside, nursing a bruised jaw, Gwaine flicked the CLOSED sign on the door and collapsed in a chair. Arthur sat next to him, feeling more and more out of place in his medieval armor. 

“The Rising Sun, really?” was all he asked.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Gwaine shrugged. “I spent so much time there back in Camelot that it was one of the first things I remembered. Well, other than you and Merlin. Speaking of which, where is the rascal?”

Arthur’s face turned grim and he pulled out the map.

“Captured, by the looks of it,” he said. “This was delivered to me when I woke up. I was too slow to catch the messenger. It’s a map to Merlin; we have one month to find him before…”

Gwaine’s face paled, and he grabbed the map, looking it over carefully. 

“Follow the clues, really?” he said angrily, “What is this, some treasure hunt? Why can’t we just go to the final destination and obey the last clue.”

“The final piece isn’t here, and look at the warning on the bottom corner.”

“‘Any actions to cheat this quest by impatient Kings, knights and other concerned parties will mean they don’t care about their friend and forfeit all rights to his rescue. Punishment will be swift and painful if I cannot have my fun’...What the hell?”

“Tell me about it,” Arthur said tersely. “Whoever designed this wants us to struggle as much as possible. I’m lucky I found you, but I have no idea where to go next. Especially looking like this.”

He waved at his armor.

“Oh, you can borrow some of my things,” Gwaine said off hand, still studying the map. “This next clue is really weird.”

Arthur looked at the map. About thirty miles away from the tavern was a small, squat building with the words  _ Smithsonianden _ written in absolutely horrible handwriting.

“Does that make sense to you?” Arthur asked.

“Smithisdenifor--smithisoden...I can’t even pronounce it,” Gwaine said, “but whatever’s there is probably dangerous. I’ll get my sword...what?”

“You still have your sword?” Arthur said, a bit surprised.

“Well, not the same one. After I got my memories back--that was two years ago--I bought a masterwork blade at a convention. Come on, let’s get you some clothes.”

“Make sure to make some supplies too; it’ll be a day’s journey on horseback,” Arthur said.

“Oh Arthur,” Gwaine laughed. “You really have been gone a long time. We don’t need horses.”

 

***

 

The ‘bus’ was a new experience for Arthur; the big building on wheels screeched through the countryside at impossible speeds, picking up and dropping off passengers every now and then. It passed other ‘cars’ on the road that made Arthur’s eyebrows raise. The world was completely different now; bizarre.

His armor was in his backpack, and Gwaine had his own pack of medieval weaponry on his shoulder. Both their swords were wrapped in waterproof canvas and looked a lot like umbrellas. 

They got off in a small town called “Mithdale” and began looking around. It was a small village with a highway running next to it that ruined the otherwise beautiful countryside. Smoke rose from some of the chimneys as their owners tried to get rid of the chill. 

Gwaine and Arthur walked through town, consulting their map for help. But, there was no building called ‘Smithsonianden.” 

“This is rubbish,” Gwaine grumbled as it started to rain. “There’re only a few streets in this town; it shouldn’t be that hard to find!”

“I guess that’s the test. Ugh, I’m tired,” Arthur said. 

“What, the bus scared you?”

“I came back from the dead today and got immediately sent on a wild goose chase to find my warlock. Of course, I’m tired,” he replied, squinting down at the map. “Smithsonianden….I can barely read this, it’s like someone spilled tea on it while they were… Wait a minute. That’s exactly what happened.”

Gwaine looked closer at the greasy splotch on the letters, smearing them into mumbo jumbo.

“It’s not Smithsonianden, then?” Gwaine said.

“Apparently not. I wish this were easier.”

 

***

 

An hour later, Gwaine and Arthur stood in front of a small, brick building called “Smith’s Son & Daughter: Blacksmith.” A cheery “visitors welcome!” sign was taped to the door, and inside someone was singing. By now it was raining and both Arthur and Gwaine were both soaked and exhausted. Confident they’d found the right place, the two walked in and were blasted with heat. 

A dark-skinned man was at the counter, sharpening a set of hunting knives; behind a glass window was another room where the forge was going. An older fellow, the master smith, was hammering metal into shape on an anvil.

Arthur recognized the man behind the counter at once, but before he could say anything Gwaine ran past him.

“Elayn, you’re alive!” he crowed.

The knight looked up and dropped the knife he was sharpening and rubbed his eyes. 

“...Gwaine, Arthur?” he said hesitantly. 

“That’s us, old friend,” Gwaine said cheerfully, “good to see you remember us. A blacksmith, really?”

“Like you can talk Gwaine-the-tavern master,” Arthur snorted, setting his sword on the counter. “Think we can talk somewhere private, Elyan?”

“Of course sire,” Elyan nodded. “There’s a breakroom in the back. You can sit down; I’ll make some coffee.”

“Coffee?” Arthur asked in confusion.

“Oh, you really  _ have _ been gone a long time,” Elyan looked amused. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it. Probably.”

Elyan stepped back from the counter and was about to disappear down a hallway when Arthur realized something.

“Elyan, if you’re here, then--” he began. 

The door opened behind him and a cheery, sun-filled voice said, “I’m home!”

Arthur turned around and there she was. 

Gwen was a few years younger than him now and wore a school uniform, hair pulled back into a low ponytail. The “Son & Daughter” part of the sign made sense now; of  _ course _ Gwen was here!

They stared at each other for a moment, completely bewildered, then Gwen came to her senses and tackled him. Her grip was so tight Arthur was surprised he didn’t break a rib.

“You’re back!” She whispered.

“I missed you too sweetheart,” Arthur murmured, grateful to be alive. 

Elyan grinned and scooted out of the room. Gwaine coughed and muttered something about tea, and disappeared as well. After a few minutes, Arthur and Gwen followed them.

 

***

 

The catching up took a little over an hour. Gwen was in her last year of high school, preparing to go full-time at the forge once she finished. Elyan was their father’s senior apprentice and made custom swords. Arthur was only marginally surprised when he found out Gwaine’s sword was actually made by Elyan; the bartending knight had bought it from their father at a convention and completely forgot who sold it to him.

Once the pleasantries were out of the way (Arthur discovered he didn’t like coffee  _ at all _ ), they got down to business. 

“So, this map will lead us to Merlin?” Gwen asked, nudging the parchment closer to her. “Why? I don’t understand this person’s motives.”

“Me neither,” Arthur said truthfully, “but they’re threatening to hurt Merlin if we don’t comply. As far as I know, there are only a few people who could get the jump on that idiot, since he’s such a powerful warlock, which must mean they’re incredibly skilled.”

“You mean people like Mordred or Agravaine…” Elyan said.

“Or Morgana,” Arthur said. “Unless you know for a fact she’s not evil.”

“She was in my class last year, but had to transfer,” Gwen said. “We were friends, but once I remembered it got hard to talk to her, so I haven’t been keeping in touch too well. But I don’t know if she remembers anything.”

“So, it’s possible Morgana is behind all of this,” Elyan summed up. “Or someone we don’t know. What are the next clues?”

“There are a bunch of them,” Arthur sighed. “And this map must be magical because some of the things on it keep moving around. Next, we need to find something called “Lionheart,” then beat a giant at dice, have a taste of our own medicine somewhere south of here, and hunt a red fox that lives on a green hill...then, it says, the quest actually starts.”

Everybody groaned. 

“This isn’t even the quest?” Gwaine said, “we’ll never get this done! I don’t even understand these weird clues.”

“It doesn’t help that the locations on the map keep moving,” Arthur said. “We’re lucky Gwen and Elyan were so easy to find.”

“Well, we don’t travel much, so...Hang on,” Gwen said, taking a second glance at the map, “What if that’s it?”

“What’s what?” Arthur asked.

“You said the first clue was to go to The Rising Sun, where Gwaine was. The next clue brought you to us. What if these lead to the other knights?” she said. “A giant...that would be Percival, wouldn’t it? And the medicine must be Gaius. The red fox…”

“Leon,” Gwaine supplied, “You’ve seen his hair. He must be Irish now.”

“Then Lionheart is Lancelot?” Elyan said, “Hey, we get to see Lancelot again!”

“We need to track them down to start the quest proper? What’s the point of gathering Camelot’s finest?” Arthus wondered. “Could it be a trap?”

“Obviously, someone doesn’t want us back. Merlin must have gotten roped up in some plot, as usual, and needs rescuing.” Gwaine said. “We only have a month, right? I’ll look for Percy, Elyan can find Lancelot if he’s so eager, and Arthur can track down Leon or something.”

“What about me?” Gwen asked.

“You can’t be missing school,” Gwaine said responsibly.

“Gwaine, I don’t care about my grades right now; Merlin is missing!”

“Ha, I know sugar, I’m just messing with you. Think I cared about my education?”

“I got it Gwen,” Arthur said, snapping his fingers, “you’ll look for Gaius. Gwaine was telling me about those magic boxes that can help you find people. Use it to scry on the different healers until he shows up.”

“Magi--Gwaine, don’t make up stories about the internet,” Gwen said. The knight shrugged. “Alright, I can do that, but you have to promise to take me with you on the quest once everyone is gathered. I’m not a knight, but I’m part of the team too!”

“It’ll be dangerous,” Elyan argued.

“It’s fine,” Arthur said. 

“What?!”

“I’m not leaving Gwen alone while we have all the fun. Besides, she’s earned it; do you honestly think we could have figured the clues out without her?”

“Eventually,” Elyan grumbled, while Gwen beamed with pride.

 

Over the next three weeks, the team was rebuilt. Gwaine, following his instincts, found Percival in a casino, working as a bouncer. Percival had been happy to take time off work to save Merlin, but only after trouncing Gwaine in an arm-wrestling match for old time’s sake.

Arthur took a ferry to Ireland and scoured the countryside for his prim and proper knight. He eventually found him at a government institution where he was training to be a bodyguard. Unfortunately, it took a while for Leon to remember him. He was so far from Camelot that there was nothing to speed up his memory recovery, which was why Leon nearly institutionalized Arthur for insanity until he was tricked into speaking Old English.

Lancelot eluded Elyan for ages. He was constantly on the move, like the wanderer he’d been in his previous life. Eventually, Elyan found a way to contact him--namely, subscribing for delivery from the weirdly honest door-to-door salesman’s website. Lancelot came to the door and was yanked inside by a very frustrated knight, and remained inside ever since, listening to lectures about contact information and stable lines of work.

Gaius, ironically, was the hardest to find. Gwen spent hours pouring over medical researchers, nearby pharmacies, and doctor resumes without any results. The deadline grew nearer, and there was still no luck. They began to worry. It was Leon who pulled them through, calling a buddy from the secret service (an old family friend, apparently) and getting the British Government to track their man down. He was a local physician in a small town near where Camelot had been. Arthur and the others packed their bags (stuffed with armor and weapons from the forge) bought bus tickets and prayed the old man would remember them.

Twenty-three days after leaving Avalon, Arthur and his friends stood outside Gaius’s clinic, map in hand. He had his circle of friends around him again, but the most important person was still missing. He looked at the map; all the clues on it had been completed, and a note appeared on the upper corner. “ _ More instructions to follow.” _

He took a deep breath and entered the doctor’s office. Six others followed him inside.

An old, weathered man looked up from his desk and blinked. His hair was cut short and his robes were white, not brown, but he was the same Gaius they remembered. He raised an eyebrow at their swords (oilskin only worked so well as a disguise) and looked over them all.

“Well, this is a surprise,” he said. “I hadn’t expected to see you lot so soon!”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Gaius set the last teacup down, bustling back to the kettle for his own herbal remedy as Arthur and the others squished together in the small doctor’s office.

“Thank you, Gaius,” Gwen said, sipping her tea.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all, my lady,” the doctor said absently, stirring camomille into his mug. “I’ve had plenty of time to prepare for your arrival.”

“Does that mean you’ve had your memories--” Arthur began.

“About twenty years,” Gaius finished, sitting back behind his desk. “I was in an unfortunate accident and a blow to my head jogged my memory. Hardly exciting, but it was effective. I gathered that none of you had been reborn yet, so I decided to live my life normally. Sooner or later you lot would turn up again, and it looks like I was right.”

Percival grinned sheepishly. He liked the old man.

“Are we the first of Camelot’s people you’ve met?” Arthur asked.

“No, I ran into a few old friends here and there, but only people from the lower town. You wouldn’t know them, sire, although Gwen might remember a few of the names.”

“But, you haven’t seen…”

“No, I’m afraid I’ve never met Merlin in this life,” Gaius sighed and reached into his desk. “He is an immortal warlock, so I knew our relationship would not mirror the one in Camelot, but I had hoped he would visit me at least. Recently, however, I have reason to believe he has been imprisoned.”

The physician pulled a scroll out of his desk, the same faded parchment as the one Arthur had gotten from the leprechaun. 

“This was delivered to me six years ago by a strange man in green,” Gaius said. “With it was a letter saying that once you, Arthur, had returned I was to give it to you, or suffer serious consequences.”

He handed the scroll to Arthur.

“Let me guess, it was something like ‘do as I say our you’ll never see Merlin again,’” Arthur grumbled as he opened it. Instead of a map, there was only an illustration of a tall tower surrounded by thorns, and the words  _ right is left and left is right, and the way in is the way out. Go up to go down and find dead friends in living graves. _

“What is this…” Arthur swallowed hard.

“A living grave,” Gwen gasped, leaning over his shoulder. Her caramel skin was very pale.

“I believe that castle is where Merlin is being held,” Gaius said grimly, “it is similar to the Dark Tower where Morgana took Gwen, although I’m certain the lady is not responsible for this.”

“How can you be sure?” Lancelot asked.

“Because she’s my great-niece,” Gaius said calmly, “and has no recollection of Camelot as of now. And, like I said, this scroll was given to me some time ago; she would have been twelve when it was delivered here.”

“You mean Merlin has been imprisoned all this time?” Gwaine said tightly.

“If not longer; I suspect the map took a long time to prepare, given its specialized tracking magic,” Gaius said. “Who knows how long he’s been locked in the tower?”

“You didn’t try to find him, or get him out?” Arthur demanded. “You’ve had six years to look into this.”

“And I have, sire,” Gaius said. “I believe that’s why it was given to me so long ago. It was very tricky, but I found the castle drawn on the scroll six months ago, in a fairy tale of all places.”

“A fairy tale?” Elyan asked, confused. 

Arthur looked down at the drawing; the tower, the thorns twisting up like a forest, and he groaned as realization hit him. 

“Oh good, Arthur,’ Gaius said, “I see you’ve already heard of Sleeping Beauty.”

 

***

 

They followed the map Gaius made them in a jeep Leon rented. When the road was too clogged with thorns to continue, they went on foot. Arthur and company tramped through the woods with a certain exasperation in their eyes as they thought about the goose-chase they’d been sent on by the mystery sorcerer. After all their caravanning around the country, the castle had ended up being only an hour’s drive from Lake Avalon; someone was mocking them.

The forest grew thicker, and brambles choked the trees like weeds. Arthur and the others had to hack through the thorns with their swords just to make progress. The castle slowly crept into view; the tallest tower looming over them like a bad omen.

They tore through the last layer of trees and were faced with an intimidating drawbridge, complete with wooden signs nailed to a post in front of it.

 

BEWARE! One said

EVIL SORCERER INSIDE! Was another one

ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK was the biggest. It had a white dragon painted on it.

 

“This does not bode well,” Gwaine said.

“Why are they being so obvious?” Leon wondered. 

That was a good question: this whole thing was fishy and disturbingly good at giving them the runaround. Arthur narrowed his eyes at the tower and shook his head.

“We’ll find out soon enough,” he said. “Now, how do we get in?”

The main door’s humongous lock was shut tight, and another sign was pegged to the front of it, saying “ _ Take me up, and cast me aside.” _

“Hey,” Elyan said, “Isn’t that…”

Arthur lifted Excalibur and looked at the letters on the side. They were the same. So, the sorcerer knew what his sword said; probably wasn’t hard to find out if they looked in a history book, but still…

“Put it in the keyhole,” Gwaine said, “maybe it’ll open the door.”

“You think?’ Arthur eyed the lock; it was certainly big enough. Why not?

He put the blade in the keyhole and twisted it. The door opened with a screech, and they filed inside.

They were in a courtyard full of rotted wood and tangled rose bushes. The walls were dirty and it smelled damp. But as soon as the last knight was over the threshold the door slammed shut again, and Arthur heard the lock click.

“No!” Gwen yelled. They pulled at the hinges, but it wouldn’t budge.

Arthur raised his sword as a ball of light formed in the center of the courtyard, forming into a small, green-clad shape…

“YOU!” Arthur roared, running at the leprechaun. “Give Merlin back!”

The knights swarmed around the fairy, swords drawn. Leon, to Arthur’s surprise, raised a gun instead. 

“Haha, you’re lucky to have made it so far!” the leprechaun said, waggling a finger at them, “seven heroes from Camelot! I suppose the old man was too weak to come, but no matter. He’s played his part.”

“Where is Merlin, you filth,” Leon growled, clicking off the gun’s safety. 

“Your friend is in the highest room in the tallest tower,” the fairy said, pointing to the black spire looming over them, “to get to him you must make it through the Palace of Deathly Despair and Evil, and then break the curse that has been placed on him.”

“A curse?” Arthur breathed. That sounded bad. 

“Eternal sleep!” the leprechaun cackled, stroking his goatee, “you will all grow old and die while he slumbers and misses your rebirth!”

“You scumbag, Merlin’s been waiting over a thousand years for Arthur to come back,” Gwen said, looking close to tears, “how could you possibly justify doing something so pointlessly cruel to him?”

The fairy grinned, showing off a mouthful of sharp teeth. “For amusement; there’s nothing more satisfying than revenge well served. Now you’ll understand my master’s irritation and suffering at your hands, Arthur Pendragon!”

The knights bristled, then Gwen burst from the circle, swinging her half-hand sword at the leprechaun.

“Let Merlin go!” she yelled as the fairy sidestepped her blow. 

“Nope, nope nope nope,” the leprechaun laughed, “you’ll have to save him yourself. Have fun trying to get through the castle alive though; the traps are horrendously evil and designed by the most powerful magic user in the world! Ha ha ha, good luck!...you’re going to need it.”

The leprechaun vanished into thin air with a snap, leaving them alone again.

The door to the castle creaked open on rusty hinges, beckoning them inside. Arthur gripped his sword and looked up to the tower; a barred window on the top floor told him where Merlin was; they had to free him from this evil spell, no matter what. 

 

***

 

“I hate this castle!” Gwaine howled as his sword transformed into a bouquet of flowers. “And come on, this was Damascus steel!” 

Arthur dodged another pit trap, keeping Gwen close to him so she wouldn’t be decapitated by a swinging ax like Lancelot had nearly been five minutes ago.

Elyan stepped on a pressure plate and the statues at the end of the hall spewed poisoned arrows at them, which they blocked with shields. Then fire shot from holes in the floor, and they had to book it to the next chamber...where an animated gargoyle was waiting. 

“Why are there  _ so many _ traps!?” Leon gasped, narrowly avoiding a tripwire, “did they spend an entire century setting these up?”

“Look out!” Arthur said and pulled his knight back as a dagger whizzed by his head. 

“H-How close are we to Merlin?” Gwen gasped. Her hair was foofed around her like a halo, the edges stung by a fire trap earlier, and her shirt was burnt. 

“Just a few more hallways to go,” Leon panted as he reloaded his gun. “We just have to hold out a little longer.”

Which is, of course, when all hell broke loose. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

There was laughing gas, invisible shield spells, misdirection, a maze built in the basement they  _ somehow _ had to pass through, and a pack of wolverines that turned out to be illusions after they chased the knights through three trap infested hallways. And yet, the worst trap of all had to be the hall of mirrors.

Arthur knew something was wrong the second they walked in, but since there were no flaming scimetars flying at them, it took him a second too long to act on that instinct. Which was exactly what the caster had been banking on.

The mirrors stretched out endlessly, twisting back and forth in a complex pattern that made it impossible to tell who was where without smacking into them. Gwen clutched Arthur’s arm worriedly as they stepped cautiously inside.

“We should go left,” said Gwaine.

“Why?” Arthur said, looking to the knight at his right. 

Gwaine shrugged, “I hear going left always gets people out of mazes.”

But the Gwaine he was talking to wasn’t looking at Arthur, but Arthur’s reflection and Arthur’s reflection was looking at Gwen, whose reflection was looking and Elyan, who….

“Everybody, it’s a trap!” Arthur said.

“No it isn’t, don’t listen to him--he’s just a reflection!” another Arthur roared by Gwen’s ear. 

Percival swiveled back and forth, going dizzy from the thousands of copies of himself that began talking to one another. 

“Hey, look at me!” a Leon hooted, doing a somersault while another cocked his pistol at him. 

“Merlin is in the tavern again?” An Arthur grumbled to a Gwen, “I’ll have Gwaine drag him out.”

“With all my heart,” Gwen said, then her face morphed into Merlin’s cheeky grin. 

“You have magic?” Lancelot said. “I won’t tell a soul.”

“The Dorocha are--”

Crowded around the hundreds of knights and Gwens was the real Arthur, who covered his ears. A dozen Arthurs nearby copied him. 

“Are these Merlin’s memories?” An Elyan asked.

“Can’t be,” Gwaine said as his face spliced into two, “the perspectives don’t match; he wasn’t in all these memories.”

The floor was multifaceted from the mirrors like they were floating in a sea of Arthurs and Lancelots. Arthur couldn’t even tell which way was up, but he felt Gwen’s hand on his arm still, and the cold of a mirror on other his fingertips.

Arthur raised his sword and shattered the mirror. 

The spell fell apart like--well--a broken window, shattering every piece of glass in the hallway. Arthur covered Gwen from the falling glass, but none of the shards hit them--a miracle he was thankful for. One last shard tinkled from the frames, reflecting the leprechaun’s dissatisfied face. 

“What was that?” Lancelot gasped, clutching his head as the magic faded. 

“I don’t even want to know,” Arthur said, making sure everyone was alright. “Come on, we need to hurry. If there’s anything else like this…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The last several hours had been the most haywire, insane, and traumatizing experience he’d had since waking up at Avalon. The others nodded in agreement; any more traps and they might just snap. 

They shuffled through the broken glass and found a staircase that had been hidden behind a mirror. It led up through a dusty corridor; the only mark of passage was a faded set of footprints going up the stairs, but not down, and was coated in a slightly thinner layer of dust than the rest of the stairs. 

And at the end of the winding staircase, behind a locked door, was Merlin.

 

***

 

He was laying on a pallet with his hands clasped together like sleeping beauty from the fairy tale. The room was full of bits and bobs, old books, and strewn about clothes. The window was barred, but open, and a chilly breeze blew through the room, turning the pages of a weatherbeaten book. 

Arthur rushed towards his manservant and relaxed when he knew the manservant was still breathing.

“Thank Gods,” Gwaine said, collapsing against the wall. Gwen blew a strand of burnt hair out of her face and smiled. 

“How do we disenchant him?” Elyan asked, looking down at the sleeping Merlin. The Warlock’s face was serene and well rested; there was even a slight smile playing on his face. 

“In the fairy tales only true love’s kiss would wake the sleeping beauty,” Leon said, nodding sagely. 

Everybody looked at Arthur.

“No,” he said, “no no no no--Gwen, you do it.”

“ME!?” she squeaked, “Arthur, I’m your girlfriend, I’m not going to kiss another guy in front of you.”

“It’s  _ Merlin _ , it’s like kissing a rabbit,” he said.

“Then you do it if it’s so easy!”

“Agh, no--ugh,” Arthur gagged. “Not another man, just never.”

“Well, I’m not giving up my first kiss just because you’re grossed out!” Gwen snapped. 

“Your first kiss!?”

“Oh please!” Gwaine groaned, walked over to the bed, and planted a kiss on Merlin’s lips.

The warlock slowly opened his eyes, then leaped out of bed with a shriek. Arthur plied Gwaine off him, and Merlin gagged, wiping his mouth with a hand.

“Gwaine!” Leon said, shocked.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Gwaine grinned, “Morning Merlin!”

“Ugh,” Merlin shuddered from across the room, “nice to see you too, Gwaine.”

Merlin looked the same as usual, right down to the red neckerchief he wore. Only a weathered look in his eyes gave away his true age. 

“You’re alright then?” Arthur said, standing beside his friend.

“Y-Yeah. Hey Arthur,” Merlin said, looking owlishly at his king.

“Good, because if you were injured I couldn’t do this,” Arthur said, and wrapped Merlin in a hug. The Knights joined in, and then it wasn’t clear who was hugging who, only that there were tears and it was hard to breathe. 

Then Leon jumped out of the circle and raised his gun.

“Wait,” he said, “the sorcerer!”

The other knights leaped away, raising their weapons. Arthur looked warily around the room for a hint of the leprechaun or its mysterious master. 

“Merlin, stay behind me,” he said, “whoever cursed you is still lurking around. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of them.”

Gwen wrapped her arm around a confused Merlin protectively. 

“Sorcerer? Cursed?” He said. “Just what are you--Oh that. Don’t worry, it’s all good.”

Merlin yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice all the knights--burned and slightly traumatized--staring at him. Arthur began thinking back to all the weird events of the day and got a bad feeling.

“What do you mean ‘don’t worry’ Merlin?” he asked. 

Merlin grabbed a satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Arthur could see the grin that he was forcing himself to hide. 

“There isn’t an evil sorcerer,” Merlin said, throwing his arms wide in good cheer, “it was all me!”

 

***

 

Merlin looked fantastically happy about this revelation; his eyes twinkled with that familiar mischief that Arthur and the others missed so much that trapping them in a mad-magic-funhouse for kicks was almost forgivable. Almost. 

“ _ You _ did this?” Arthur said, motioning at their singed clothes and hair and wide eyes, especially Gwen’s locks. 

Merlin nodded happily. “Yep, been planning it for years.”

Even Gwaine was at a loss by this. 

Merlin laughed, then rolled his eyes at their shocked faces. 

“Oh, come on!” he said, “It wasn’t that bad, just a bit of fun.”

“ _ Fun? _ Merlin, Gwen nearly lost all her hair!” Author exclaimed. “Leon’s lucky to have all his fingers--I was nearly crushed under a stone horse!”

“Oh, you were fine,” Merlin huffed, “I had  _ plenty _ of safety measures. Fire was only allowed to burn up to a quarter inch of hair, weaponry and rubbles could land nearby but not on you, etc, etc. It’s no fun if you’re not convinced its real.”

Arthur walked forward and put a hand on Merlin’s forehead. 

“I’m not sick,” he said.

“No, just sick in the head,” Arthur said, still unable to process this correctly. “Are you seriously telling me you hijacked this castle, set up nearly a million booby traps, and put yourself in an enchanted sleep just for kicks?”

“Oh, please,” Merlin said, “it wasn’t just for kicks; I was just long overdue for a nap.”

“A...nap?” Lancelot echoed.

“Yep,” Merlin nodded, “I got sick of waiting for you all to show up about...fifty years ago, so I came here for some beauty sleep. Luckily the traps were ready to go, so--”

“The traps were already here?” Gwaine asked incredulously.

“Come on, you honestly think I wasn’t a  _ little _ ticked at being left in the cold for 1500 years?” Merlin grumbled, “You all might have been happy in Avalon, but I was stuck eating refried beans during the Great War. I needed _ something _ to do to blow off steam. Don’t worry, they’re all pretty harmless.”

“Harmless? I almost broke my neck in a pitfall--twice!” Elyan said. 

“You’d never actually fall. Trust me, I’ve had a lot of time to perfect the spell.”

“What about the mirrors?” Arthur said. “Were they harmless?”

“I made that on one of my  _ really _ bad days.” Merlin admitted, “I thought about taking it down, but it took a long time to finish, and then I thought about you arguing with your reflections and I couldn’t resist.”

“Would we be stuck in there forever if Arthur hadn’t saved us?” Gwen asked.

“Nah. After a few hours, it would have put you back at the beginning of the castle.” Merlin said, picking a piece of lint off his jacket.

“So, this is just some sick joke you cooked up because you were lonely?” Lancelot said, looking at Merlin like he was dangerous. 

“Yes, and while I’m at it, do you have any idea how hard it is to enchant a map to keep track of the location of all your souls?” Merlin grumbled, “Or how annoying it is to track down a leprechaun for help because  _ I _ do, and it’s a pain. You’re lucky I didn’t give up and make you do everything.”

Arthur was aware that his mouth was hanging open. Gwaine’s was too. 

“What if we were in real danger?” Lancelot continued, “Like if a real evil sorcerer appeared.”

“I would’ve woken up,” Merlin said. “The spell only kept me asleep if you were safe, and if nobody jostled me too hard. I was actually expecting a bucket of water, not Gwaine’s...approach.”

Gwaine flashed a grin at the others. 

Merlin took in everyone else’s stunned faces and grinned.

“Well, I’d call my little prank a success. I’m going to collect the security footage and then we can go rebuild Albion,” he said. “By the way, it is great to see you all again. And thanks for waking me up Gwaine; my alarm died about thirty years ago, so I didn’t know when to wake up.”

He sauntered out of the room, whistling an old tune.  Arthur turned back to the others. The smell of burnt hair, singed clothing, and dust were everywhere.

“We’re never letting Merlin get bored or lonely ever again,” Arthur told them, “Agreed?”

Gwen and the knights nodded fervently as they dusted the ash off their clothes. 

“Hey, are you coming or not?” Merlin called, poking his head around the doorframe.

Arthur and the knights rushed to follow him; it probably wasn’t wise to keep Merlin waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you have it; Merlin's petty revenge. 
> 
> Don't make the warlock wait. he's as crazy as a bag of cats.
> 
> I expect once Arthur and everyone calms down they're going to lay it on the warlock for putting them through everything, but honestly, I think Merlin would consider it worthwhile revenge for 1500 years left in suspense. His Dragoon scene with the knights convinced me that, happy for their return or no, would have been ready to unleash some Justice. 
> 
> The hall of mirrors was a bit dark--but then Merlin's had some dark days, so it stayed (despite my initial misgivings) and I think it worked out.


End file.
